Chapter 1 - The Hidden Prince
TIME - UNKNOWN
The behemoth gently cradled the dead body of his silvery herald, who had reached him only to look up and say "Master" before expiring. His herald was a force unto himself, feared on many worlds. But whatever had killed him had done so quickly, and worse, placed him beyond his Master's ability to revive. Then, something tore through the upper layers of his worldship. The giant looked up and saw Ghidorah, three heads almost bobbing in triumph. Outraged, he shouted at the monster.
"So, Ghidorah! So, Last Destroyer! You yet live, and doubtless with you your hateful enemy! Was not the death of my Cosmos enough for you two arch-fiends? No, never enough for Ghidorah! No, never enough for the Maw Of Hell! You two are fiercely made, but beware. For the birth-pangs of this universe re-cast me in thy hateful image!"
With that, the purple-clad behemoth began blasting Ghidorah with all his reserves of energy. His hands shot star-wiping energy at the King and Death heads, while his eye-beams kept the middle head, Mecha, from lancing forward. At first, the giant felt his opponent weaken. Flush with thoughts of avenging his fallen cosmos, he pressed his attack.
Then, to his horror, he noted that the Mecha-head was now drawing in the energy directed at the other two. Before he could even scream, The Devourer Of Worlds had been himself devoured to the last Erg. His ship then crumpled apart like tinfoil. Ghidorah had at last killed the only survivor of its last great rampage. Worlds that had thought the Devourer and his sivery herald were coming for them celebrated-just not for very long.
Earth, 2278
In his cryogenic hell, Peter Kirk sighed. "Not Her Again", he thought. Every day like clockwork, Admiral Teresa "Bun" Bunson came to see him. Like the other top Admirals holding him, she was a member of The Order Of The Ancient Destroyer. Admiral Bunson was noted for being a protocol maniac, and a stickler for fine detail. Students at the Academy dreaded facing her reviews. But this public propriety was, like much else about the woman, a mask.
The nickname, "Bun" was indicative of her public persona, as tight as the way she wore her hair. But "Bun" is also a euphemism for a part of the human body, and that is what Peter saw of her every day-along with everything else she had. While this might seem like a kindness or a dream come true for a boy not permitted to age past 13, it was far from it.
As the Admiral moved in front of Peter, she kept her eye on the metabolic monitors that kept the Order's prize in stable condition. In short, as he might be aroused by her actions, the metabolic regulators would kick in, causing his brain to shut down the response. It was from this start/stop motion that the disrobed Admiral derived her perverse pleasure.
She cooed, "Now, Peter. This show can go on quite indefinitely, or you can fully cooperate with us, and we can be good friends. Your resistance is serving only to delay Lord Ghidorah's coming, not stop it. Just let us make our broadcast, and I can find out just how much Jim Kirk's nephew you really are. And don't think getting used to me is going to do any good - you are still very much in puberty, and a 13-year old is going to respond to certain things, whether they like it or not."
In fact, Peter was quite used to her. She was, in fact, very beautiful, and Peter was a 13-year old Terran male, the nephew of a man whose reputation was only somewhat exaggerated. But the boy hated her, and so grew resistant to her charms. The Admiral, however, had found something he couldn't help but respond to. She would lie directly on top of his cryo-chamber. The view was too much for someone kept drugged and forced to participate in telepathic experiments meant to call Ghidorah. This the sick Brass knew well.
"Ok, Peter, there is something very, very nice pressed up against the glass, right above your head. Now, tell me, what do you think of them? Hmmm?"
Then, a voice from behind the Admiral.
"If the boy were conscious, I believe he would tell you that they sag."
Admiral Bunson's face was then smashed into the glass, and her unconscious form rolled off. Peter was released from the cryo by what looked like a Vulcan girl, who offered him a robe-the Admiral's. He was still very confused. The girl spoke.
"I was sent by Ambassador Sarek. My name is Saavik. I am only half-Vulcan. My Romulan keepers on HellGuard would play such vicious games with me, as well."
She pointed to the Admiral, who was still quite unconscious.
"I understand the need for revenge. If you wish to take it upon her, while she is helpless, I will not stop you."
Before falling unconscious, Peter uttered words that quite surprised Saavik, who was herself almost hoping to see this sick individual receive hate back. It was the last words he would say for a month.
"I think I can do better."
Vulcan, 2285
Peter was almost suffocating, but his assailant would not let go, despite his pleadings.
"Aunt Amanda, please! I can't breathe!"
Amanda Grayson released her houseguest of 8 years only reluctantly.
"I'm so sorry, Peter. Its just that Spock would never permit me to hug him like that, even once."
"And for good reason, I think."
Peter smiled. He knew that Amanda had trouble dealing with a son who wished only to be more like his father, but could never seem to measure up. Amanda regarded the third young man to grow up in her household as a son of her heart.
"So, off to the Crusades? Don't you ever wish to do anything else? Whatever the past, you're still a young man."
"Amanda, this isn't a windmill we're tilting at. Its Un-Life. While Sarek informs the diplomats of our research, I'm to meet with this Mitchell Evans, whoever he is, to gain information about..."
"Gh'draeh, I know. But Peter, is this what you want out of life? Hunting something that can't be killed?"
"He's hunting us, and somehow it will be killed, that I swear. As to the rest, what I want out of life is to slip away. Go into an alternate reality, one where the creatures that killed my family were just aberrations, where Ghidorah is just an old name, and where Peter Kirk has no greater responsibility than answering a few questions about his famous uncle! But..I don't see that happening. I'm sorry I shouted, Amanda."
"Don't apologize. One, you didn't mean to shout, and two, I had it coming after that Crusade comment. Just be careful of this Mitchell Evans. I mean, who has information on Ghidorah?"
He kissed her on the cheek.
"Hey, I'm a telepath, remember? What those Admirals did to me had some side benefits, after all. I'll scan them for any trouble. Take care, Aunt Amanda!"
He was lying to her on a few counts. He had already sensed trouble, but was determined to trip this trap, to see if it yielded anything. Also, he was far more than a mere telepath, and he was not yet ready to call what he had become a benefit of his torture. On the path to the transport, he encountered Saavik.
"Is that piece of paper what I think it is?"
She nodded.
"T'Pau's decree makes it official. Our bond is dissolved. You and I, Peter, are, as humans say, divorced."
Peter smiled.
"Most amicable divorce I've ever heard of. Are you all right?"
"I was somewhat embarrassed to discuss what occurred in front of T'Pau. She considered pressing charges against me, for assault."
"What about my testimony?"
"T'Pau felt that you were biased by our common affection for Sarek, Amanda, and Spock. And your---lack of experience, in such matters."
"You never do forget your first. I know I won't."
"Nor shall I forget. But while it was not unpleasant---I could have killed you, Peter!"
"You could have died, Saavik."
As Saavik nodded yes, she remembered. The tragic death of her chosen bond-mate. Her half-breed nature causing Pon Farr and Plak Tow to kick in almost all at once. The Klingon terrorist, Kruge, spraying the Greater Vulcan system with E-M pulses, rendering comm and transport systems useless. Her agony, seemingly destined to be her last.
With Sarek and Amanda gone to Seleya, she was left alone with Peter. Peter, who until that time, had rejected all physical contact for 4 years, despite his progress. Peter, who risked his life and sanity by bonding with an enraged Vulcan. For bonding is not merely about sex, but contact down to the mind's very core, the soul's zenith and nadir.
But Saavik, too, had been surprised, by Peter's enthusiasm, and by what lay inside his tortured mind. For a time, it was difficult to tell whether she was moaning as bonders do--or screaming from the images of Ghidorah that permeated her makeshift bondmate's mind. When all was done, he kissed her on the lips one last time, and spoke.
"I told you I could do better."
In the present, Peter saw that his question was still unanswered.
"Saavik, do the images still invade your mind? That's what I meant by 'all right', you know?"
She stared at him, grateful for his understanding in this untoward circumstance.
"The bond takes time to truly dissolve. They will pass. Peter, how do you sleep with that thing flying around in your mind?"
"I don't."
"Oh. If--T'Pau had said no, and forced us to maintain our bond, how would you have felt?"
"To speculate on hypotheticals-is not logical, my former wife."
"I suppose you think that response is clever--my former husband."
"I hear you're aboard Enterprise in the New Year, Lieutenant Saavik."
"Indeed, Lieutenant Kirk. I am told I will not be alone, in this. Will you tell your uncle then?"
"Yes. Live Long And Prosper, Saavik."
"Watch you back, Peter."
"Funny. I don't recall Surak saying that."
"Revised and Annotated Works. You should make the effort to keep
up.""I do alright, Saavik. Or--so you told me."
Before she could respond, Peter was in the desert-skim, bound for T'navat City, to meet with Mitchell Evans. Saavik's Romulan half showed through, just for a moment.
"That---was cheating."
Just outside T'navat, Peter's skim ran out of power. Stepping out, he saw two ordinary-looking men in the desert. One wore an older-style Starfleet Uniform. The other looked almost like a teenager.
"Are either of you two by any chance named Mitchell Evans?"
The older man's voice seemed to echo, even reverberate.
"You know, Peter, we've met before, you and I. Shortly after you were born, your Uncle took me to meet his brother Sam, his sister-in-law Aurelan, and his new nephew-you. He was so proud, he called you his little Christmas gift. He was so hurt when he thought you were dead. But then, he thought the same of me. Except in my case, I was, and he killed me. Hell of a thing to do to your best friend, wouldn't you say?"
Now, the boy-man spoke, in an affected imitation of the elder's reverb. The man was cold fury, the boy white hot anger.
"My mistake was ever in trusting your Uncle! He said he'd be my friend, Peter! But he turned me back over to those ghost-things. Are you like him, huh? Are you a betrayer!?"
Peter stared at the two, and quickly realized how he had been duped.
"Great joke, guys. Bravo! Mitchell Evans. Well, you had me fooled. Mitchell Evans is really two people-Charlie Evans and Gary Mitchell. Two psychotics with more power than sense."
Gary Mitchell grew upset.
"Watch your tongue, boy. Or--don't. You see, it was Ghidorah's struggles with the barrier that made me what I am today. I have a primal connection with his power, and his return to this quadrant revived me. Of course, it was all with the suggestion-that we get rid of you. So, we get to serve our master and deal a blow to our oo-old friend James T. Kirk."
As much nervous as gloating, Charlie Evans started talking quickly.
"Gary came, and killed the Thasians! Hah! They thought they were invulnerable! BUT WE SHOWED THEM! Like we're gonna show you. Like we showed Janice!"
Peter frowned, but maintained his cool.
"Charlie, you killed Captain Rand? Wow, with your powers that must've been a real challenge! Bet you feel like a big man."
Predictably, Evans charged Peter at that, but was tripped and ended up with his face in the sand. Mitchell teleported the boy back.
"Peter, you can taunt all you like, but Charlie and myself are, after Ghidorah, the most powerful beings in the universe. Now what do you think your chances are of emerging from this desert alive?"
Lieutenant Kirk balled up his fists and stepped one pace closer to the deranged Titans.
"My Chances, Gary? Better Than Yours, Mister!"
Mitchell laughed, and Evans soon after.
"Thank You, Peter! I had forgotten what a real Kirk sounded like. But the time for nostalgia-is over, and so, you....Where is he?"
Evans shook his head, sweating from the desert heat.
"I-I don't know, Gary, I..."
"Find him, Charlie. He's pulled some sort of trick, but this desert is vast, and our power vaster still."
Evans did as he was told, materializing the best weapons and armor available to hunt Peter Kirk. Mitchell stretched out with his mind, but couldn't see him.
Hiding behind hills long used in meditation for their anti-telepathic properties, Peter assessed the situation.
"I'm in the middle of the Vulcan Desert at Midday, being hunted by two minor gods who think they serve the Ancient Destroyer. Yep, I'm a Kirk, alright."
At the conference he had convened, Sarek spoke to the assembled diplomats, all friends of his, all of whom would bear the sad, grim news that the Ghidorah was real, and in the Alpha Quadrant, and would soon attack. His evidence in one hand, his rhetoric in the other, and his mind temporarily cleared, despite his failing emotional control, he got to the meat of his presentation.
"Unless we act soon, Ladies and Gentlemen of the Trans-Diplomatic Council, our Galaxy is doomed!"
The silence that followed was thick and unreadable. Then, Tav, the Tellarite Ambassador spoke.
"Sarek, your ideas are fantastic! I think you had better leave!"
Sarek hoped that this was merely Tellarite bluster. But on down the line, Tav's feelings were seconded, sometimes more politely, sometimes less so. But their words told Sarek one thing and one thing alone : He had failed. The Federation would not be properly informed of the coming apocalypse.
Somewhere past the Neutral Zone, a dormant Ghidorah was sighted by Romulan ships. The Romulan Senate's surprising reaction : Bring the Ancient Destroyer here, that he may be made to serve us. Luckily for them, the creature was not 'playing possum' - for now.
Chapter 2 - Time Of The Jackals
Circa 2200-speculated date
At last, it was done, and he sang hosannas to say it was. He had pierced the veil between worlds and there beheld himself. The him of another universe. The other-matter universe. Lazarus was thrilled, and so, for that matter, was Lazarus. But in the 'positive-matter' universe, something went wrong.
Physical laws may not even be consistent in all parts of the same universe, so the laws that govern commerce between two different universes are an absolute wild card. Any effort to explain them would reveal not mysteries of science, but the ignorance of the speaker. The explanation would end up sounding like something a writer would say to sound like a Tom Clancy, or other knowledgeable techno-novelists of the last great Print Cycle. So there was no real answer as to why what happened next happened. It simply did, and two worlds in two disparate cosmos suffered hideously for it.
Positive-Lazarus saw his screen shift, from that of his brother-self to two ancient worlds. On both of them were godlike beings. On one, the world was like Eden, a place of new genesis. On the other, it looked as though the apocalypse had come early. Not that it mattered much, in either case.
On the uglier world, P-Lazarus saw its hideous ruler, king of this eternal night, with a face that looked like it was hewn out of a grim mountain. To look at him was to see your own worst side. But neither this, nor the soul-blasting beauty of the other world phased P-Lazarus much. He was, in the end, a scientist, used to seeing as much wonder in the recycling bacteria he crafted as he saw in nebulas unfolding. He liked to imagine himself prepared for anything. This was arrogance on his part, and he would answer for it-unjustly-but he would answer for it.
Ghidorah found the two godlike worlds. The world of the new birth, though, turned him away. A world of gods, after all, possesses godlike technology. Unable to destroy Ghidorah, they turned its path to the grim sister world. That planet was all but dead, drained by its master's plans. So Ghidorah landed, and waited. One day, the stone-faced ruler came out, and stood before the Ancient Destroyer. Then, his eyes began to glow. For centuries they stood there, Ghidorah immobile, the power in the hell-king's eyes building.
P-Lazarus stared in wonder, while N-Lazarus struggled to resume contact. He knew of Ghidorah-an omniversal legend-but was not seeing what his 'brother' was. For him, this was a mixed blessing. If he had seen, he would have understood P-Lazarus future actions. But then he himself would have lost.
On P-Lazarus screen, the dark ruler's beams were finally unleashed against immobile Ghidorah. They were red, and as crisp and fine as any light since the pilot light for creation itself. The evil king considered it ironic that the beings who so despised him would owe him so mightily for killing the Ancient Destroyer. He somewhat regretted the necessity of destroying something so efficient and terrible, but his plans did not involve Ghidorah. Just as Ghidorah's plans did not involve him. So it was, as the beams released, the creature raised its wing in protection. The red eye-beams struck an outer wing-talon.
This caused the full, undiminished force of the rays to re-strike their master. He became a fireball, striking through the dead heart of his own fetid world. Total destruction followed thereafter, whatever energy there was absorbed by the once statue-like monster. The other world lost much of its beauty as the loss caused it to shift orbit and be torn to pieces by gravity. In space, the godlike beings of both worlds floated, alive and helpless. Though some of them had power, all had been lost too quickly to act. So it was that Ghidorah flew at the survivors. They were rich in energy, and he feasted well.
P-Lazarus saw much of this, human-looking beings downed like snacks by a creature that shouldn't exist and who defied many a physical law. The image started to break up, interspersing with the returning image of N-Lazarus. So did P-Lazarus come to associate the image of his counterpart with that of a marauding monster, and so lose his mind in the process. He picked up a hand weapon, which he fired at the portal-beacon, regarding it as a thing of evil. It was the shot heard round two worlds.
P-Lazarus couldn't have known that his unstable device had allowed him to see events of his own universe, done with countless millennia past. He also couldn't have known that the energy from his weapon would be magnified by infinity while passing through the portal, and then reverse course. On both worlds, the Lazaruses were the only survivors. The mad one hunted the sane one, until both universes were protected by the sane Lazarus's sacrifice.
So it was that the mere image of Ghidorah destroyed two worlds. It should be noted that both Lazaruses died upon the Enterprise's sealing of "The Alternative Warp"; only their bodies fight on. The soul of the sane one rests in a better place. The soul of the mad one will only rest when the souls of two worlds are through asking him : Why?
Vulcan, 2285
"Come out, Peter! I'm not such a bad guy. Your uncle just overreacted to some pranks I pulled. Now, come out!"
As Peter Kirk ducked out from behind a sand dune, Charlie Evans used the offensive/defensive armor from the 22nd Century he had materialized to lance a blast in Peter's direction. Charlie's own strange abilities could easily let him destroy his opponent. But, the punk was not very imaginative, and so used the cool-looking armor instead. In that, lay Peter's only chance-almost.
"Y'know, Peter, I didn't want to kill Janice Rand. I mean, I loved her. I approached her, made her young again, treated her nicely-but she SAID I WAS CRAZY!"
Taunting his enemy into sloppiness, Peter was hoping that Evans' sponsor, Gary Mitchell, wasn't around the corner. Not only did he want to survive, but he wanted both "gods" to eat dirt before he was finished with them.
"If you loved her, then why did you rape her, Charlie?"
"She was already gone. I - just - substituted a more agreeable personality into her, for a time. That wasn't rape, Peter!"
"No, just necrophilia. You know, Charlie, people who play with corpses, erase other people's faces, and turn young women into lizards have what 21st-Century folk called 'Issues'!"
Then, Peter began to laugh-loudly. Charlie started spraying the area wildly.
"Stop laughing! I said stop laughing! I'm not kidding, Kirk! You don't intimidate me--I'm gonna kill you, then your uncle! When Ghidorah comes, to make all the wrongdoers pay---"
Suddenly, Peter Kirk was right in Charlie Evans' face.
"You won't be here."
Peter shoved his fingers through the open eye-slits of the armor, ignoring the painful force-shield burning his fingers. He took out one of Evans' eyes, and badly wounded the other. When a pained Charlie opened his mask, Peter cupped his lower hand, then thrust his hand forward, shoving the boy's nose into his brain, killing him. He then changed the settings on the armor, allowing it to use solar power-something abundant in the Vulcan desert. Perhaps too abundant. He picked Charlie Evans' body up, keeping the solar panels in a receiving mode. He came upon Gary Mitchell.
"Bravo, Peter. You've killed Charlie. But then, that's what Kirks do, right? If I told you how much you look like him..."
"You'd bore me, like you've been doing."
Gary smiled, and his voice sounded even loftier than before.
"I'm going to kill you now, Peter. I almost don't want to, but Ghidorah's got its hooks in me, same as you. We're a lot alike, you and I."
"Spare me."
"The speech, yes. Your life-not possible, I'm afraid. Isn't it ironic that I chose lightning bolts all those long years ago? A reflection, perhaps, of the Ancient Destroyer? Oh, any last words? I'll be sure and relay them to Jim."
"Just these : You're a psychopath, you spelled my Uncle's name wrong on his tombstone, and.....Catch!"
Charlie's armor had been bursting from overload for several minutes now. Now, Peter threw Charlie's body, which a surprised Mitchell did catch. The solar power was never meant to be used for long on worlds like Vulcan. As Peter ran, the armor exploded. Evans' body was destroyed, but Peter simply didn't know Mitchell's limits. He raced for his transport. As he reached in for something, a pair of hands grabbed him.
"That wasn't very smart, Peter! I'm a God, after all. Jim couldn't kill me. What makes you think you can?"
Peter noted something in the transport's mirror. He elbowed Mitchell as hard as he could, and noted him recoiling. He then stepped behind the "god". In his hands was a length of tubing from the transport. He proceeded to strangle Mitchell with it.
"No, Gary! I didn't think the explosion would kill you. But look at your eyes. They're not glowing. In other words, you are mortal. Quite mortal."
But Lt. Kirk knew that, so long as Ghidorah lived, so might Mitchell. It had been Ghidorah's constant breaching and infection of the Galactic Barrier that had given Gary his powers-and his madness. Peter came upon a grim plan, one he would have to enact before Mitchell's power kicked back in. He pulled out a sharp instrument, one meant for dealing with the wild lemataya. Gary had been right. Peter was a true Kirk, and he would do what he had to. No matter what.
"Hey, Gary! Ghidorah has three, but YOU HAVE ONLY ONE!"
Just as the silvery glow was returning to Mitchell's eyes, Peter decapitated him, then split the head in two on the downward spiral. For good measure, he stabbed the falling torso through the heart, and then straight through the back.
The young man felt ill. He actually did remember Gary from when he was very young, and remembered liking him. He had always felt some sympathy for what had happened to him and Charlie Evans, given powers they didn't want, and couldn't handle. But they had to be stopped. Ghidorah's coming would be bad enough without these servants. He felt despair.
"How do I fight this? Bad enough that the Ancient Destroyer is real, but it has worshippers? Acolytes? How does he control them? Maintain contact? My God, why would anyone willingly serve King Ghidorah?"
Then, a voice. Louder than Gary's, but more comforting.
"I have such answers, my son."
Peter was exhausted. He looked up skeptically.
"Who Are You?"
"I am called Sargon. I, too, have known your heroic uncle, and have called him friend. Would you know the Origin Of The Order Of The Ancient Destroyer?"
"What about Ghidorah's origin?"
"That is lost to time, though some may have it. Mine was the first civilization, yet even then, when the stars were young, was Ghidorah called The Ancient Destroyer-as told in the oldest records even we knew of. Of him, I can say nothing. But the Order, birthed in sin, fire, and death, I know all too well."
"Sargon, show me."
The entity did just that.
Saavik guided an obviously shaken Sarek to his bedchamber, whose door
he shut immediately upon entering. Saavik turned to Amanda."Mother, his views were disputed. He suspects that a group of select Ambassadors are of the Order. There will be no galactic alert. Without the other diplomats to support him, Sarek's words will not be heard by the worlds of the Federation. We await Ghidorah's coming unprepared."
Amanda frowned. She feared this might happen. She didn't wish to tell this girl, who honorifically called her 'Mother', that her ex-husband Peter was also late in getting back. Of course, she knew this.
"Peter is fine. I would know otherwise. Our bond is now like unto that of brother and sister. Sarek is our concern, now.
Amanda chuckled, at that.
"During your Pon Farr, when we walked in on you two, that was NOT sibling-like behavior I saw-at least I hope it wasn't."
Saavik smiled just a bit.
"As a famous Terran surgeon once said, 'There Are Families, And Then There Are Families.' But then, Pierce is overquoted."
"Saavik, was there something more?"
Now, a small frown. The Romulan half would show itself, when Saavik was upset.
"Yes, Mother. Father has been removed as Vulcan's Ambassador."
Chapter 3 - What Rough Beast....
Earth, 2275
They had lived among us for millennia in secret-but no longer. At the behest and direction of the Oldest Of Their Kind, the Immortals were abandoning the Earth--and more, the quadrant it was based in. The Oldest shook his head, cynically awaiting liftoff. He couldn't believe he was actually leaving Earth after 5,000 years. He wasn't like Flint. Never could be.
Yes, the Oldest knew, the nature of the Game had changed since First Contact in 2063. There were now revealed to be Logic-driven Vulcan immortals, Emotion-driven Tellarite ones, and Klingons, some original members of Kahless' Arena Tqr'yrk, driven by honor. Of course, he should have realized, that the Terran Immortals belief in the immediacy of the Gathering was as narrow as ancient man's view that the world was always on the verge of ending. He shuddered when he remembered his 1st non-Terran Quickening, and then his first non-humanoid.
But for all that, he had never left the confines of the world that spawned him. It was hard, leaving one's true parent behind. But Ghaedros, as the Ancients knew him, was back for another pass. If life somehow survived this, it would need the knowledge his kind had kept in order to rebuild. His friend of 250 years tapped him on the shoulder.
"Again, is this necessary? Leaving? Abandoning all we've known?"
"Again, Yes. I wasn't here the last time he passed, nor was the one who was Oldest when I was born. But when SHE was born, there was a former cave-dweller, the most powerful shaman in Olduvai once, who called images up from the bones of the fallen Champion."
"Then its real. My God. In Scotland, they told us stories of the "Slither Ghidree", but I thought sure they were all crap. Is there no help we can offer, say, pre-Apocalypse?"
"Not unless you've gotten good at slicing through 3 megameter-long heads in one stroke, pally!"
His friend smiled.
"Hey, give me a chance. I did take out----what's his name, started with a K".
"They ALL started with K."
"Just how bad is this Ghidorah?"
"Remember my fallen brother? The one you were so sure you killed at the submarine base? The one who lived long enough to have funded Colonel Green, and thus World War 3, in the 21st century? That bad, on a galactic scale."
"I...see. What happened when he came before--besides 'bad stuff', wisenheimer?"
"Lessee. Well, the shaman told the story of three great creatures. One was the Butterfly of Life--no commentary, please--spawned by the Earth, to protect it, along with its sister, the Bat Of Death. When Ghidorah's coming was detected, they were joined by the Turtle Upon Whose Back The World Floats. As they approached him in space, the three heads snaked forward, tore out their hearts, and ate them. Despite the loss of their hearts, the creatures battled on, using every last weapon at their disposal. Poison Mist, fireballs, Red Lightning, you name it. In the end, though, The Ancient Destroyer won, and left their lifeless carcasses floating in space."
"That's--no pun intended--cold."
"He wasn't finished. Ghidorah then flew to Earth and devoured every last member of an odd hybrid dinosaur species-a cross, I believe, between a more bestial breed of stegosaur and less rapacious type of T-Rex. For some reason, it feared letting this creature evolve. So it didn't."
"What about the bodies of the great strange creatures?"
"I do believe you've heard of the Yucatan Peninunsla-and what hit there, killing the dinosaurs. And there are other stories. Once, the Earth had a series of great fighting tournaments. Some fought for glory, and some for money. Some fought to oppose terrestrial evils, and some to oppose threats from beyond Earth. There were a few of us, scattered in there, including your kinsman, mentor to one of the fighters, a Shaolin Monk. There were over 500 of them, and they wielded extraordinary power and skill. The men were more Alpha, and the women defied gravity in more ways than one. Remember the Chinese lady warrior--"
"Ha! Yeah! She--always forgot to wear her undies! Then she's do that spinning kick--upside down!"
"She didn't forget them! She was the strongest woman in the world! What did she care if some moron saw that which he could NEVER have?"
"So what about---"
"Ghidorah? Well, the worst of them-all rotters-were part of The Order Of The Ancient Destroyer. The three bottom feeders- An other-dimensional demon - king, a red-suited psycho druglord plus dictator, and a hellishly corrupt, powerful CEO- killed all their rivals. Together, they summoned Ghidorah, promised power beyond imagining. But if in fact the creature had promised them anything, upon opening the portal, it sucked them in. Just then, every single one of these fighters-including some less honorable types, having wisely turned on their dumb masters-showed up. With your kinsman leading them, they used their Chi-Their Very LifeForce-to seal the portal. So was Earth safe-for 200 years, anyway."
"I-had always wondered how he died. What about that report you obtained, from 2039?"
"This? It reads : 'The New Earth Union is a flawed compact. Members of a cult infest it at the highest levels, including its secretive 31st Section. Through misdirection and the blood of Children, it seeks to bring some hideous ancient destroyer to be among us. Racists of all stripes believe that their kind will be the one left when Ghidorah passes. The Order Of The Ancient Destroyer once included my well-known opponent, who continued his tobacco use well past the 2006 ban. Holding a gun to his own head, he told me that the Ghidoran hybrids were gone, but that he was coming, anyway. He then pulled the trigger. This struggle has cost me everything, including the life of my beloved, skeptical wife. To you who read this : Know that, above all else, KING
GHIDORAH MUST BE DESTROYED! - FM, Former Director, FIA""Signed by the man himself, the day he died. Even in death, he still makes it all seem so spooky...What's that noise?"
The Oldest looked at the spreading fire. The bastards of the Order knew. Rapid decompression aboard a spaceship meant easy loss of life-no matter who or what you were.
"Goodbye, my friend. And I was going to make a planter of your head."
The friend's last words were : "As If".
Back on Earth, Grand Admiral Heichiaro Nogura died of a heart attack. Admiral Bunson prided herself on her ability to work a man like this. But she didn't dress. Instead, she called Captain Cartwright.
"Its so very tragic, Captain. But when he found out about Peter Kirk and the necessary sacrifice of all those foundlings, he came to me for comfort."
"Did you comfort him, Admiral?"
"Well, I had to turn around, afterwards, but he had a smile. What about that transport"
"Tragically, all lost. Admiral Pierson should have filed a flight plan. He must have lost his head, not to do such a thing."
"Indeed. Did you know that he and Kirk are the only ones I never...comforted? Anyway, Nogura's last wish was that you be raised up in his place. Or--it soon will be. Humanity Prevails, Grand Admiral Cartwright."
"Humanity Prevails, Admiral Bunson."
As the channel went dead, Bunson looked at Nogura's body.
"Imagine. All those years, and you only betrayed your wife once, sir. But once, as they say, is enough. Now, if young Peter Kirk would just cooperate, we could get Lord Ghidorah here that much faster. He'll give in, though--you did--and he's a terrific 13 years old. Did I ever remember to thank you for assigning me those pre-cadet interviews? A 13-year old will do anything for a favorable mention. But not this creep. He's a 'Kirk'. Galactic hero, and all that. The one rep overriding the other, sadly."
Her dialogue with Nogura's corpse continued for another 3 hours. Nine years later, when he blew up Admiralty Hall, Peter Kirk made sure his doppleganger bomb was standing very near to this very sick individual. In the scandalous aftermath, the infant sacrifices beneath Admiralty Hall were revealed-but not in whose name they were made. Several cadets and officers then came forward with stories about their interviews with the prim and proper Admiral Bunson. But the Great Secret Of The Order was kept, and Ghidorah was still coming.
Vulcan, 2285
As Peter Kirk telepathically floated in the memories of the being called Sargon, he at last saw the answer to one of his questions.
"Who would worship the Ancient Destroyer, Sargon? What gain could they hope for? Ghidorah spares no one-so why?"
"The man you see in my thoughts is my brother, Henoch. His evil was
massive."-----------------------------------
"Sargon, have you seen the images? They flow like a line of blood from the lesser races. Hosanna! The Ancient Destroyer has come! Now shall space be free of their microbe's whining!"
"You speak of this as though it is a good thing, Henoch. Further, you act as one whose plan has come to fruition. Say this is not the case, Brother."
"It is a great good thing, Brother! As for my plan, I merely set the ants against each other. I Appeared to them in visions, as a god, announcing Ghidorah's coming. I told each one that he came to take their enemies, and leave space for them alone. The fools built transmitters to call the thing in. Is it my fault that their fear and loathing spurred them on, after my words?"
"Brother, the images you look upon are hours old. Behold, The Ancient Destroyer!"
To Henoch's horror, the dragon was on his own world, ending the First Civilization, not distinguishing between planner and pawn. Lightning pierced even the chamber they stood in. Henoch stood and looked at Thalassa, Sargon's wife.
"What of the aid given me by my brother's wife, who appeared as an angel, to proclaim a Fellowship of Ghidorah's worshippers?"
Thalassa stood sadly before her husband.
"Yes, Sargon. His folly is mine as well. We have thought ourselves gods, to judge all the rest. Now we are done."
Sargon gestured for the chambers far below, where their consciousness' would live on, in containment globes. The planet was nearly blasted clean by Ghidorah. But its legacy would live on.
-------------------------------------
"But, Peter, it was not all a good legacy. Among the survivors on the other worlds were Ghidorans. Like Atlantis for your world, they served as Ambassadors of both knowledge--and ignorance. With them came the Arts, the Sciences, and the Order."
Peter understood.
"So, somehow this creature's transcendent evil has become a catch-all for those who bear a grudge. Hate someone? Call upon Ghidorah. He'll spare you-probably. Probably not."
"Hate exists without him. Evil exists without him. And---all this is done without the creature's knowledge, Peter. It is an engine of destruction--lower than the lowliest animal. These fools pray to the void, but still their hate does damage."
"Sargon? Can The Maw Of Hell stop Ghidorah? It is his bane, after all."
"The Maw will not stop him. It, too, is a savager of worlds. Even your power, Peter Kirk, is nothing to him. Why did you not use it, against Mitchell, and Evans? You could have eliminated them with a thought."
So Sargon knew what Peter had kept from everyone, even Saavik, his former bondmate. What contact with The Ancient Destroyer had truly done to him. The power he wielded. The power, which, in the face of Ghidorah--meant absolutely nothing.
"Sargon, power didn't help your race, it didn't help Gary or Charlie, and it never has helped the Squire, or 'Q' as he now calls himself. I'll use it where it will help, in the battle..."
"No! You must hold it back until the right moment! And you must never confront The Enemy directly. No one being can defeat Ghidorah! Only the Coordinated Labors and Goals Of Many will do that."
Despite Peter's many questions, Sargon faded back into oblivion. But at least he knew that the Order was made up of complete fools, who could not be a direct help to Ghidorah. If they could contact him, and give the creature information, then little hope would become no hope at all. Exhausted, he made his way for T'Navat City.
There, two things happened. Peter learned of Sarek's removal as Ambassador. T'Pau had resisted, but many of the other Diplomats had demanded this, fearing him insane. About 15, though, were members of the Order. In his mind, Peter saw their transports fail while leaving orbit. Using his power against Ghidorah was stupidity. But the monster's followers owed Peter a debt of blood, and they would pay.
The second thing was a noisome young man Peter met.
"Yeah, so you're a Kirk?"
"Last I checked."
"Funny. You don't look like a space cowboy."
"Have we met?"
"No, no. I'm just a lowly scientist. Not a space super-hero like you, or your uncle."
"Kid, have I done something to offend you?"
The younger man got up in Peter's face.
"The military, with its rapacious appetite, is my problem! All science is turned towards its goals! Whoever blew up Admiralty Hall is my hero! What do you say to that, Lt. Kirk?"
"You're Welcome."
"Um, Yeah. Well, on our station, we are building....um, nothing. Gotta go."
Peter saw the young man talking to a woman who looked like his mother. He knew the face, from a billion tech journals.
"Doctor, I'm Peter Kirk. It is an honor to meet you, Ma---why are you staring at me?"
"You---really do look like your Uncle did, at your age."
Peter saw some intense images sliding off this woman's mind—images of himself in bed with her. No--her with his Uncle Jim. He looked again at her disagreeable son. She nudged her son.
"David, apologize to Lt. Kirk! His family and ours are--old friends."
"Thanks for nothing, Starfleet!"
"No, no, Dr. Marcus! Thank you for the sour persimmons!"
In Carol Marcus' eyes, Peter saw that she knew the last word in that phrase--'Cousin'. She spoke to David Marcus.
"David, go meet with the Reliant's XO, and find out what you can about why we're needed. I need to ask Lt. Kirk something."
With a sarcastic wave, David walked off, to do as he was told-for once.
"When-did Jim tell you?"
Peter smiled.
"Doctor, he didn't. You did. The flushed look on your face was one of recognition, and fear of being found out. Plus, look at this."
Peter pulled out his datacomm, and accessed a picture of a curly-haired, blond baby boy. Carol stared disbelieving.
"This is David, as a small child. Peter, where..."
"That's not David. That's my baby brother, who died with my parents on Deneba. David looks like age-programs I've run on this photo. Its kind of eerie."
"No tears, though you want to. You really are a...sorry, you must get that a lot. Peter, would you mind a big, aunt-type hug?"
He accepted, and it was an aunt's hug, despite the strong resemblance. She had never told David-or Jim-that a 2nd baby boy had been stillborn-one with hair like Peter's. He, too, looked like a CGI ghost. A small connection made, they parted. Saavik picked Peter up.
"You are in distress. Over Sarek's removal?
"No. I just met three gods, killed two of them, and saw my baby brother, wandering around alive. Oh, and I discovered the origins of The Order Of The Ancient Destroyer, while I was at it."
Saavik stopped the mini-transport. She felt the enormity of Peter's stress, through the bond she thought was dissolved, but was in fact merely evolving. She sought to help him with that stress.
"Your day becomes stranger still, Peter. Your 'sister' is about to make a pass at---"
He was sound asleep.
"Men."
She was not only disappointed for herself, but for him. Sleep that was not preceded by their times together meant that, in his mind, Peter struggled with Ghidorah.
Back at T'Navat, the Marcus family met with the Reliant's XO-Pavel Chekov.
"I suppose you're wondering why I've called you all here...heh,heh..is old Russian joke. Anyway, ve have encountered an astro-biological anomaly during our recent foray into the Beta Quadrant."
David was skeptical.
"Boy, Kirk's people get around, don't they? His nephew insults me, and you shanghai the crew of the most important project--ever. What anomaly could be that big as needs Regula 1's expertise?"
"First off, Peter Kirk is a personal friend, Doctor. What would you be like if your entire family was lost to plague and terrorism? Ve still don't know who kidnapped and held him for over a decade! So show some respect to the life he's managed to build since then. To answer your other question, the anomaly is this, and it must remain top-secret. The Beta Quadrant---isn't there anymore. Its gone. Long range scans have been fooled by phantoms. There is nothing left in that part of the Galaxy. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must persuade Captain Terrell to allow Genesis aboard, as per your request. He von't like it."
Carol tugged on Pavel's sleeve.
"Commander, that wasn't a request. We're not leaving it behind. Also, no one anywhere knows why Peter Kirk was held, or anything else?"
"I'll convey your words, Doctor. As to Peter, it makes my blood boil. We threw him a Christmas party, after his family was lost to those strange creatures. You never saw so haunted a look. Like the weight of creation rested on his shoulders alone. Like the boogieman was real, and coming to get him, like it did his family. Then, to be kidnapped and apparently tortured...I must go."
David felt lower than dirt.
"Mom, how in the name of…anything can that guy walk around like that? If I had been through anything like Peter...."
Carol tried to reenforce the lesson her son had learned, while tweaking his nose, as well.
"He's a Kirk, David. Just like...."
She bit back.
"His uncle."
On both their minds now was why 25% of the galaxy was no longer there. As they would learn, to their dismay, that number was extremely conservative.
2286-The Year Of The Ancient Destroyer
Sarek looked at his two houseguests, now departing for the Enterprise. He spoke, choosing quick words so he could get back to his chosen work--as a terraformer. No one could understand this choice, after his removal from the Ambassador's office, but he had his reasons. He always did.
"Two shattered children entered my house. Now, the ship that my son once called home will be home to my other son, and my daughter, who have yet to give me any grandchildren."
Peter and Saavik were confused. Sarek's smile was almost scandalous.
"A side effect of my emotional deterioration. An occasional joke goes far in my efforts at self-control. No, you are not my children by blood, but of my heart. Go to the man who is the brother of my bloodson's heart, and uncle by blood to Peter. Live Long, and Prosper, my children."
His Vulcan salute was returned.
"Live Long And Prosper--Father, Mother."
"You both gave me back my life, and that life has a purpose, however grim. I know now the meaning of Sargon's words. Ghidorah will be defeated, by a Coordinated Combination of Goals and Efforts. He will be defeated—by an Enterprise. Live Long And Prosper, Jonathan and Martha."
Amanda frowned.
"Peter, leave the jokes to Sarek. He has better timing."
Peter hugged Amanda, and saluted Sarek. Then, they were beamed aboard to begin service aboard the USS Enterprise - and to start the greatest adventure of them all. Together, with his beloved uncle and their friends, they would face The Ancient Destroyer.
In Romulan space, a fleet of ten heavy cruisers were crunched by their own tractor beams, as they tried to tow the massive form of the dormant Ghidorah. The baleful, acquisitive eyes of, J'Len, a Tal'Shiar agent watched in glee, despite the loss. The Senate, all of the Order, wanted this thing very badly, and they meant to have it. There was no other option, no matter how many ships it took to bring Ghidorah to Romulus.
"Our ships and their crews mean nothing in comparison to our plans for you, monster! Crunch all you want---we'll make more."